This Magic Moment
by J-J-Sawyer-Phillips
Summary: Set in Neverland, Tinkerbell is trying to teach Emma how to unlock her powers; this leads her to remember a very important event in her Based off of a Tumblr gif set created by Disclaimer: Adam and Eddy are my King and Admiral respectively, yet still have not employed


Emma sits cross-legged on the packed earth of the clearing, a boulder against her back to help keep it straight. Her hands rest, palms up, on her knees, and if she's being honest with herself she feels just a tad ridiculous. Tinkerbell faces her, folded up in a similar position, except she's hovering a few inches off of the ground. She can see her parents trying to watch unobtrusively from their tent, but Hook makes no such effort, leaning against a nearby tree and sharpening his sword. No, not Hook—Killian, she reminds herself. It's almost as if they are two separate, distinct individuals in her mind now—the ruthless, vengeance seeking villain and the occasionally reckless, but always concerned gentleman-pirate. She had known that he and Neal had met a long time ago—they had both admitted as much—but she had no idea just how much Killian had cared for him until he brought out that sword. Baelfire's sword, and now hers. Jones clearly is a man of many layers and depth; he just chooses to hide that complexity behind a façade of charisma, swagger, and cynicism.

"You aren't focusing, Emma. You have to clear your mind!" The pixie snaps at her.

"Sorry. I'm not exactly into the whole New-Age, find your totem spirit animal in your cave bullshit. I just don't see the point of all of this."

Tink throws her hands up in frustration, unfolding her legs and pacing the clearing angrily. Killian puts away his sword and kneels down to face her, grabbing one of her hands in both of his. "Look lass, with the other magic wielders gone, we are quite frankly fucked without you. I'm not saying this to put any more weight on your shoulders—believe me, love, this is a burden I wouldn't wish for you take on in a thousand years. But we need you to believe in yourself. You are the most resourceful, stubborn, determined women that I have ever had the misfortune of crossing blades with and the pleasure of getting to know. You can do this, silly as it may seem now;_ I_ _believe_ that you can do this, and you trust me, aye?"

Emma nods her head, shocked at the power of the conviction in his voice telling her that he has faith in _her_. It reminds her of the intense faith that Henry had in her, when he believed that she could break the curse. _And he was right, wasn't he? You DID break it. Which means Killian is probably right about your ability to learn to use magic_. She takes a deep breath and closes her eyes.

"Okay, Emma. Let's go back to the very beginning. Deep breaths—four counts in, two counts rest, four counts out, two counts rest. Back to the beginning…now clear your mind." She listens to the pixie's voice. Slow, even breathing; the very beginning; clear mind; back to the beginning. She feels a tingling sensation along her spine, but does her best to ignore it and keep her focus on the air going in and out of her lungs. Basic, beginning; the beginning, _her_ beginning. She frowns because suddenly, her mind isn't clear anymore—she can see a cloud ominously building, racing toward her in a furious blend of black, green, and purple.

She can't outrun it because it's in her head; she's not connected to a body anymore, so she can't even move as it crashes into her. A flurry of sights and sounds flash all around her until suddenly, everything is darkness. She can hear muffled sounds—a soft, familiar voice calling her by name, telling her how much Daddy loves her and can't wait to see his little princess; another voice singing a lullaby, sweet and gentle and low; she senses that same melodious voice again, but full of sadness, and so she kicks and moves to try and make that pain disappear, because her movements are always connected to happy sounds; she feels someone pressing against one of her hands, so she pushes back, hoping to hear those excited voices again.

And then, for the first time, she feels distressed and hurt. The walls are closing in; something keeps pushing against her, but it's not like before because this does NOT feel pleasant at all. And then it's no longer a warm red darkness—it's way too bright and cold! She shivers uncontrollably and cries because all she wants is to be safe and comfortable again. But then she hears those voices! Much louder than before, but she recognizes them all the same. The hands that she kicked and pushed wrap her in a heated blanket that feels nice and soft against her rapidly cooling skin. And then she sees the faces that belong to the voices, smiling at her, although one looks upside down. The melodic voice is attached to curly black hair and bright green eyes, and a smile that is so just so beautiful!

Two pairs of lips kiss her repeatedly and coo a word at her over and over again. Emma. It's a sound so filled with love and awe that she can't help the happiness that fills her tiny body. She reaches out to touch the pretty face, and her hand comes away with a sparkling drop of something warm and wet. But then the pretty face disappears, and now she can see blue eyes, with a strong chin, and short blonde hair. The voice that called itself Daddy. She can hear crying as the wind moves fast against her face, making her close her eyes. Loud sounds start bouncing around in her ears; she doesn't like them because they aren't as soft or pretty as the voices—sharp and ringing. But the "Daddy" is holding her tightly, so everything should be okay. She can feel his heart beating against her tiny ear; stronger than the similar sound she has heard every single moment of her existence, it is comforting and reassuring. She could almost fall asleep to it, except the sound disappears all too soon.

The voice's lips press against her forehead and speak to her. "Find us." The last thing she remembers is the sadness, love, and hope that fill those simple words. _Find us!_

Emma crashes into her own body again, eyes flying open. Tinkerbell is grinning at her like an idiot, while Killian and her parents are staring at her with mouths open. That's when she notices that she's levitating above the ground, just like the pixie was earlier. "That's it, girly! Now, you know you can do it, so go higher."

She looks over at Killian who nods encouragingly. _Higher, right… So, I'd kind of like to go-_. The action happens faster than she can think it, and soon she's up near the tree tops. Emma unfolds her legs, letting them dangle in the air below her. The wind is different up here, calling to her like it wants her to run off and play with it. For the first time that she can remember, Emma Swan feels free, like she can do anything she puts her mind to. And it's all because of a boy who believed she could break a Curse; because of a mother, who loved her from the instant she knew her baby existed; because of a father, who adored her and had faith that she could find her way home to them; and because of a pirate, who had no reason at all to trust in her, but he did anyway.

Emma slowly, gently descends to the ground, the return to earth making her feel heavy and weighed down. She can hear her Mom and Dad whispering to Tinkerbell. "What was that? What happened?"

"She went back to the beginning, more specifically _her_ beginning. Her brain has stored memories from her birth and even before that. She felt the power of your love and your faith in her; that's how far back she needed to go to find her happiest thoughts. And you need the happiest first before other happy thoughts will help you fly, help you make magic."

"So, that was real? You guys really, really wanted me?" She tries to stop the tears and the broken sound of her voice, but she can't. But it's when she sees her Dad crying too that she just can't take it anymore. Emma runs, despite knowing that it's dangerous and she could be attacked by anything lurking in the jungle. She _HAS_ to run from the enormity of those awe-filled, wonderful feelings because that's all she's ever known to do. A pair of strong, powerful arms wraps around her and tackles her to the ground. They continue to hold her, gently, as she cries and sobs, rolling with her and turning her so that her face is pressed against his leather-covered shoulder. "The—they loved me, so much. They b—b—believed in me to come back an s—save them. Why?"

"Because you are _their_ daughter, lass. It's in your blood to be a savior and a hero." Killian presses a kiss to her hair, marveling at how soft the blonde curls feel against his lips. He rubs soothing circles over her back, trying to calm her down while his eyes dart frantically all around them. They are far from safe out here, so he is ever vigilant, giving her the time she needs to collect herself. Her sobbing breaths stop—thank the gods—but her can still hear an occasional sniffle, and her tears keep falling on his shirt and chest. A muffled question comes out from the region of his shoulder.

"Come again, love?"

"And what about you? You have no reason to trust me, especially not after I freaking abandoned you. Then left you with Cora in the Enchanted Forest. Then chained you to your hospital bed. Then hit you over the head with a trash can and tied you to a radiator in New York. Why did you come back? Why do you believe that I can do this?" Her eyes bore into his as if she can force the truth out of them; her hands are gripped around the lapels of his coat, shaking him to emphasize her questions, inadvertently digging her elbows into his stomach.

"Because my motto in life has always been that a man who doesn't fight for what he wants deserves what he gets. You're a fighter, Emma. You love that boy and the rest of your family with all your heart and soul. You'd do anything that's necessary to save them, and the true measure of someone's love is in their actions, not just their words. And while this may not be the most opportune or appropriate of moments, you really should know by now, lass, that I quite fancy you."

A flash of knowledge and understanding lights her eye, quickly hidden by confusion. "You're really that into being tied up and beaten up by me?"

"Well, it's only from time to time, and mostly when you're not yelling at me. I don't mind so much being tied up it's the fact that you don't use it to your advantage." A smile crosses her face, making her breathtakingly beautiful, and he swears that she actually giggled. "I mean seriously, love, what's the point of securing a man to his bed unless you plan to-"

He feels her fingers against his lips and focuses back on her face again, which is much closer than it was a moment ago. Her eyes are filled with doubt and insecurity, as if she still isn't sure he's told her the truth in spite of the fact that she _has_ to know. He stays completely frozen, unwilling to force her hand; she has to believe his sincerity and make her choice accordingly. Her gaze flits back and forth between his eyes and his lips for a few seconds before she closes the distance between them. The kiss is tentative and unsure until he brushes back against her mouth, responding with just as much shyness and uncertainty and longing. He moans, unable to stop the sound of pleasure coming from his throat, because simple and innocent as it is, it feels exquisitely divine. She pulls back to see his eyes, only to find them closed in bliss, as if he's thoroughly savoring the experience.

"Emma." She goes back to his mouth, sliding her tongue along the sensual, full bottom lip. He opens, letting her lead, letting her deepen the kiss at her own pace. Instead of a fight, instead of resistance, she finds desire and acceptance and caring. She can feel his body responding to hers and vice versa. His hand goes to the nape of her neck, angling her head so that he can kiss her back, fingers digging into her hair and massaging her scalp. It feels so good to give in, to let go of the masks they've been hiding behind and stop denying what has grown between them. It isn't the right place; it certainly isn't the right time, but they are both done fighting.

"Killian. I'm so sorry, for all of it."

The sound of his name makes his breath hitch in his throat. He hasn't heard anyone, save himself, use it for centuries, and it's perfectly right and magical that she's the one to give it back to him. "I know, lass. I'm sorry too. But especially sorry to end this moment; we must get back, darling. And thank you… I always knew I'd love the sound of my name on your lips."

He helps her to her feet, then keeps her hand in his as they walk back toward their encampment. It's another happiest thought, another beginning for her to save in her mind—a wall of protection against evil and darkness, constructed by love, hope, and trust.


End file.
